


Tilt

by ladyxdaydream



Series: I'll Fall / NATA side-fics [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: AND GAY, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Itachi's pov, M/M, Uchihas are alive and well, getting together... again, implied narusasu/sns, past!kisita
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:41:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27033631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyxdaydream/pseuds/ladyxdaydream
Summary: After Itachi breaks off his years long engagement, he's content to live alone with his cat shisui for the rest of his life.That is, until he's unexpectedly tricked into seeing someone from his past.
Relationships: Deidara/Uchiha Itachi, Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka, Uchiha Itachi & Uchiha Mikoto, Uchiha Itachi & Uchiha Sasuke
Series: I'll Fall / NATA side-fics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1972990
Comments: 36
Kudos: 127





	Tilt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Birkastan2018](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Birkastan2018/gifts).



> hooooo boy. never thought I'd be here with an Itachi POV side-fic, but I've gotta admit... I really loved writing it.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!
> 
> If you were lured here by some of the character/ship tags, this fic is from my "Night At the Aquarium" & "I'll Fall, If You Do" universe; both can be found on my dashboard. They are kakairu-centric, if that's your thing. 
> 
> I'm sorta super nervous to post something that's _not_ kakairu-centric but.... here we go!!

Itachi got into his car, the leather seat cool against his legs through his linen pants. He turned on the radio with no need to change the channel. It’d been set to the same one for years — a mellow station that played classical composers and smooth jazz. When he pulled out of the driveway, he pushed on his bluetooth and spoke out loud:

“Hatake Kakashi.”

“Calling Hatake Kakashi,” the automated voice recited.

The phone started to ring a second later. It rang and rang, and Itachi hoped for once in Kakashi’s life he would answer on the first try. He knew it was late, but Kakashi tended to be a night owl; he wasn’t worried about waking him. 

_“Yo.”_

“Kakashi.”

_“You alright? This is late for you.”_

“Is Iruka home?”

_“Uh, yeah…”_

“Could you ask him to leave?”

_“It’s after midnight, Itachi. He works early tomorr—,”_

“—I broke off my engagement with Kisame.”

There was a long beat of silence. Kakashi sighed heavily.

_“Iruka’s asleep. He has been for several hours. If you need more privacy, we can go somewhere else.”_

Itachi contemplated that for a moment. It’s not that he didn’t like Iruka—he’d come to like Iruka quite a bit over the years—but he was feeling uncharacteristically vulnerable. He never let anyone see him that way, anyone aside from Kakashi. 

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

~

“We can use Naruto’s room,” Kakashi said when he arrived. “He’s spending the weekend at Rin’s. If Iruka wakes up, I left him a note on the door to not disturb us.”

Itachi weakly smiled his thanks.

“Do you want any tea? I put the kettle on before you got here. It’s already hot.”

“Anything without caffeine is fine. Thank you.”

Itachi sat down on the velvet green armchair in the corner next to the window, observing the space he knew his little brother spent so much time in. It made him feel closer to him; Sasuke had probably sat in this same chair a million times. 

“Naruto’s room is a lot cleaner than I expected,” Itachi said, taking the mug from Kakashi when he returned. He placed it on the window ledge to cool.

“Ha,” Kakashi laughed, closing the door quietly. “That’s Iruka’s doing. He made him clean it before he left. Otherwise we’d be swimming in dirty clothes and empty chip bags.” 

“Mm,” Itachi hummed, blowing on his tea before taking a sip.

“So, you wanna tell me what happened?” Kakashi asked, crawling onto Naruto’s bed to lean against the headboard. He pulled a raggedy, plush fox from behind his back to cradle it in his lap. 

“I ended my engagement. It’s over.”

“I gathered that much from the phone, funnily enough. You wanna tell me why?” 

“I didn’t want children.”

“You never have.”

“I know. I was very clear about it, but apparently Kisame didn’t take me seriously. He thought I’d change my mind with time.”

Kakashi said nothing, rubbing one of the foxes ears between his fingers. 

“He wants to move back to California to be closer to his family. And I know he misses the climate; Kisame hates the winter here.”

“I don’t think anyone actually _likes_ winter,” Kakashi teased.

“ _I_ like it,” Itachi said, especially when it meant sharing dinner with Sasuke under the _kotatsu_ he had ordered and shipped from Japan years ago. Kisame had found it pointless, considering they had central heating in the house they rented, but to Itachi… a home wasn’t a home without one.

“I told Kisame I’d never leave Chicago. Not as long as Sasuke’s here—I don’t imagine him going anywhere. Not in the next five years.”

“Hm.” Kakashi hummed. “Was he not willing to be flexible?” 

Itachi took a long sip of his tea, remaining silent. Truthfully, Itachi didn’t know how flexible Kisame was willing to be. At this point it didn’t matter, not when their differences were so vast. 

When the silence stretched on too long, Kakashi spoke up.

“I’ll tell you what I think,” Kakashi said, pulling his sweats up his legs before bending his knees. “I think this was a long time coming, and there’s more to the story than you’re telling me. You got engaged and then _stayed_ engaged for _six years,_ Itachi.” 

Itachi hated how well Kakashi could read him, but he also _let_ him, so he couldn’t be too mad about it. And yes, maybe the fact that’d he kept pushing back their wedding should have been alarming enough, but it never felt right. He never felt ready. Itachi had always been gifted with incredible foresight, and he knew something was…

“Something is missing,” Itachi admitted, finally, _finally_ saying it out loud. “Something has been missing for a long time. I…” Itachi paused, picking up the tag of his teabag to dunk it around in the water. “…It’ll sound insignificant and judgmental.”

“It won’t,” Kakashi reassured him. 

Itachi took a deep breath through his nose. 

“We’re… very different,” he started.

“You think?” Kakashi laughed.

“Could you not?” Itachi said with an annoyed glare, setting his teacup back on the window ledge. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Kakashi said, holding up his hands innocently, offering one of his famous eye smiles that appeared when he knew he was being a little shit. “Go on.” 

Itachi sighed.

“We have nothing in common. The things I find important, he can’t hold a conversation about: politics, art, music. He tries sometimes but not hard enough, and even then it’s not satisfactory,” Itachi said, all while staring at his hands in his lap. 

He crossed one leg over the other and lifted his head to look at Kakashi. 

“We’re aesthetically opposite. I despise clutter; I’m constantly picking up after him. I haven’t decorated the house with any of my belongings because I can’t stand to see them in an environment that isn’t suitable. My wood block prints are still packed in their boxes, and we moved into that house three years ago.”

“I noticed,” Kakashi said. “And found it strange. It’s like there’s no trace of you in there aside from the _kotatsu_. It’s nothing like the apartment I lived in with you.” 

Itachi nodded, and continued.

“He doesn’t ‘prefer’ Japanese food, and that’s essentially all I eat and know how to cook. The dishes he enjoys are the standard western favorites like ramen and sushi, but that’s not a reflection of real home-cooking. We rarely ate the same thing for dinner. Do you know how strange that is?”

“I—wow, Itachi. I had no idea.” 

Itachi couldn’t blame him because nobody did. He was embarrassed about it, which meant he kept it to himself. He didn’t really know why he stuck it out for so long. Maybe because he knew his mother hadn’t been happy with his father for the majority of their marriage, but he knew she’d never leave him. He knew that she loved him; found reasons to love him.

Itachi would have believed interracial marriage was simply impossible, if he wasn’t inside the home of a shining example right now—Kakashi and Iruka were so different yet somehow it still worked, something Itachi had always admired.

“Kisame’s idea of a good time is going to a sports event. I went to a football game with him last month Kakashi, and it was simultaneously the most boring and frightening day of my life."

Kakashi laughed loudly, clapping a hand over his mouth to not wake Iruka.

Itachi’s mouth twitched in an almost smile, feeling lighter already.

He pulled off his glasses and rubbed at his tired eyes. 

“His latest crusade was trying to get me to go to the gym with him. I don’t… ‘go to the gym’. I go for runs. And meet up with my _aikido_ club on Sundays, but that’s about as sporting as I get.”

“Did he… did he even _know_ you?” Kakashi asked, his face wrought in disbelief. 

“I’m starting to question that myself. I don’t know if it’s my fault for being too withholding, or I was some weird version of his manic pixie dream girl,” Itachi joked darkly. 

“Oh my god,” Kakashi laughed. “I cannot believe you just said that. You _were_ still pretty emo when he met you.”

“Shut up,” Itachi said with a small laugh. “I’m being serious.” 

“Okay, well here’s a serious question for you: what did you like about him? There had to be something keeping you around for, what? Seven years total?”

“He’s hot,” Itachi said in his own flat humor. “And the sex was good, but restrictive. He was very much a top and nothing else.”

“Oof. That’s unfortunate.”

“Mm.” Itachi agreed, though it was mostly fine. There were instances where he wished they could have been more exploratory, have more freedom to express other sides of himself.

“... but you aren’t that shallow, Itachi. There had to be more.”

Itachi sighed, preparing himself to explain what he’d pieced together over the years.

“The first year was fun; it was playful and easy, as any new relationship is. He proposed so fast—while we were still in that high stage—not really knowing each other but feeling like we did. He was very loyal to me; I could feel his devotion and that was… nice, for a while. He always looked out for me, and did whatever I asked, but sometimes I wished he wouldn’t. That he would have some thoughts or opinions of his own, I don’t know. It sounds trivial,” Itachi said, fidgeting in his seat.

“No it doesn't. I get what you’re trying to say. Iruka is uh, very opinionated,” Kakashi laughed. “But I love that about him even if we don’t agree all the time. He picks at my brain, you know? And he’s passionate about and interested in so many things, which leads to new experiences or conversations.” 

“I’ve always envied your relationship,” Itachi admitted softly.

“Excuse me?” Kakashi said, cupping his hand around his ear. “Can you say that again? I think you were giving a genuine compliment.”

“Fuck off,” Itachi laughed. “I mean it. If I were to want anything again… it’d be something like what you’ve found.”

Kakashi’s eyes softened, and at one point in his life, it would have made Itachi melt, but he’d moved on from his feelings a long time ago. 

“Yeah, well, it takes work, Itachi. A lot of work. Not only together, but individually.”

“I realize that, which is part of the reason I stayed with Kisame so long but…” 

Itachi trailed off, glancing out the window.

“If it’s with the wrong person Itachi, then no amount of work is going to change that. You still have to be in love with who he is on a fundamental level, and it sounds like you were at one point, but then… you fell out of love as you got older, which is okay. It happens. We constantly evolve and change as we discover more about ourselves and what we deem important, and sometimes that growth can cause us to grow a part instead of closer together.” 

It was strange, hearing the private thoughts he’d been harboring for years echoed back to him by his best friend, but he supposed that’s why Kakashi was his best friend to begin with.

“When did you get so wise?” Itachi asked. 

“Years and years of therapy?” Kakashi laughed. “And Iruka’s influence. I should have recorded that and played it back for him,” Kakashi joked. “He still thinks I’m the biggest idiot he’s ever met.”

“He’s not wrong.”

Kakashi stuck out his tongue, and Itachi laughed into his cup.

They sat in a companionable silence for a moment, drinking their tea.

“Kisame never said it, but I know he didn’t like Susanoo. I think he was secretly relieved when he died.”

“Uh, no offense Itachi, but I think we all were,” Kakashi said. “That cat was a bitch. He didn’t love anyone but you…”

“That’s why he was perfect.” 

“… and Deidara.” 

Itachi stilled; he wished his heart didn’t skip at the sudden mention of his name, he really did. It made him angry; his body betraying him like that. He never allowed himself to contemplate Deidara. It was useless. That didn’t change the fact that Deidara had been the one who went with him to the shelter all those years ago to pick Susanoo out; the summer Deidara had lived with Kakashi and Iruka before moving to New York; the summer they had… whatever it was that they had.

“Yes, well, that was Susanoo’s one flaw.”

Kakashi eyed him suspiciously and Itachi prayed he wouldn’t try and discuss the blonde further. He did _not_ want to go there right now, and sometimes Kakashi would push him simply for that reason. Thankfully, this wasn’t one of those times.

“So what are you gonna do now?” Kakashi asked with a yawn. “Move out?”

“Obviously,” Itachi said, relieved by the change in subject. “I’ll move back downtown. I like living in the city. Get another cat. Or two.” 

“Great,” Kakashi laughed sarcastically. “Well, you know we’ll help; we’re always here for you.”

“I know.”

“Iruka will be relieved, honestly. He’s been saying you two should separate for years.”

“I should have gone to him for advice.”

“He is great at it, though brutally honest. You might not’ve been ready for it back then,” Kakashi laughed. “It’s better you came to your own conclusion. Do you want to spend the night?”

“No, it’s fine,” Itachi said—sleeping in Naruto’s bed did not sound appealing, no matter how clean his room looked. He glanced at his watch. It was almost 2:30 in the morning. “Kisame will be heading to work in a few hours. I’ll start packing then.”

“You want me to come with you? I won’t sleep at this point. I don’t work tomorr—uh, today.”

Itachi didn’t know he wanted that, but now that Kakashi had said it, it made him want to cry.

“…Yes.”

“Okay, I’ll need to wake Iruka and tell him. I’ll meet you in the car.”

Itachi stood up from his chair and made for the door. Kakashi pulled him into a hug before he got there, tugging a sob from the depths of his chest, feeling his whole world tilt. 

* * *

  
Itachi had bought Sasuke a _tsugaru-jamisen_ when he turned seventeen a few weeks ago—a larger _shamisen_ with thicker strings than the ones most commonly used. Sasuke had been expressing interest in playing an instrument for years, and Itachi knew his little brother was thinking of a guitar, but he couldn’t help pushing Sasuke in the direction of something from their culture. He had limited experience with a _shamisen_ , his expertise lied with the violin, but he gleaned enough to be able to teach Sasuke the basics, knowing Sasuke wouldn’t receive guidance from anywhere else.

Sasuke wasn’t raised with the same attention Itachi was given. Itachi wasn’t sure whether his parents were just exhausted from having done it once, the excitement wearing off, or if the neglect—especially from their Father—was done unconsciously out of spite, never wanting a second child. Either way, there were no visits to the library with Fugaku to pour over the archives; the place where Itachi cultivated a deep love for Japanese wooden block prints, becoming a collector as an a adult. No trips to the symphony or theater to see tribute shows to Japanese composers like Joe Hisashi or Tōru Takemitsu. No annual vacations to Japan—Sasuke had been twice in his life, whereas Itachi went every year from when he was a toddler until he started college. 

Itachi spoke fluent Japanese whereas Sasuke struggled. His parents had assimilated more by the time Sasuke was born. Fugaku had become the CEO of his company by then, and wanted his own English to be impeccable. He didn’t want to be seen as a fool or inferior by his colleagues, often practicing at home, too.

Sasuke had been hardened by their Father’s negligence, and Itachi tried his best to offer the softness and love his brother deserved. He felt responsible for Sasuke in many ways—he knew he was being overbearing sometimes, but he couldn’t help it. If anything ever happened to him, Itachi would be ruined. 

Itachi pulled up to his parent’s home with that thought in mind, got out of the car, and opened the front door to a familiar smell—rice crackers baking in the oven, his favorite childhood snack.

“Hello Mother,” Itachi said, after he’d slipped off his shoes and padded into the kitchen.

“Oh, Itachi. You’re early,” Mikoto said, pulling trays out of the oven. “The _senbei_ will need time to cool.”

“No matter. Would you like me to start the tea?”

“Please. Sasuke isn’t home yet, he’s still at Naruto’s.” 

“Mm. When is he not at Naruto’s?”

“True,” Mikoto laughed. “But I’m glad he has someone.”

Itachi smiled his agreement as he spooned the green tea leaves into the kettle.

“How about a game of _koi koi_ while we wait, hm? I’ll grab the _hanafuda_.”

Itachi watched her leave the kitchen. He worried about his mother. She lived most of her life as a housewife, and now that Sasuke was grown and set to start college next year, she spent the majority of her time alone. He visited as often as he could, but he knew it wasn’t enough. It was the reason why he had come so early today.

Aside from the _tsugaru-jamisen_ , Itachi had gifted Sasuke tickets to see the Yoshida Brothers, a duo touring from Japan who incorporated the instrument into an interesting fusion of Japanese and Western music—the concert was tonight. 

He poured two cups of tea, and set some warm _senbei_ onto a small plate on the table when she walked in. She sat in the chair to his right, the corner of the table between them. After putting the small, thick cards in a pile on the table, they each took one from the top, placing it face up.

“Your deal,” Itachi smiled, sipping his tea. 

Mikoto picked up the cards and shuffled them.

“You’re well?” Itachi asked.

“Oh yes, dear. Thank you. I’d ask you, but you look wonderful. Always so handsome,” she said, cupping his cheek for a moment before dealing out the cards.

“Any new projects?” Itachi asked, looking at his hand. His mother had picked up embroidery several years ago and had become an expert.

“I’ve started a lotus pond. I finished the sakura scene from last month,” she said, matching the wisteria and placing it on her side.

“You’ll have to show me it before I leave,” Itachi said, picking up a card from the pile, matching it with another peony. 

“Of course. You know Sasuke has a friend named Sakura? I was thinking of gifting it to her.”

“I’m sure she’d like that,” Itachi said. “You know you could sell them, Mother. You have the talent.”

That was an understatement; his mother was incredible. Itachi had one of her embroideries hanging in his bedroom—Mt. Fuji in exquisite detail. Out of curiosity, he had an art friend look at it one day, and he quoted it’s worth at thousands of dollars. Itachi had suggested she sell her work before, but her answer was always the same. 

“Nonsense,” she smiled. “I do have other news. After your suggestion I took a portfolio to Yamanaka’s and they hired me on the spot.” 

“That’s wonderful,” Itachi said happily. He knew his mother had worked in a flower shop throughout her youth in Japan, and maintained a love for the art of arrangements well into adulthood—Yamanaka’s had an esteemed reputation. 

“It’s part-time, sometimes in the evenings. Your Father will have to figure out dinner on his own for once,” she said with a wink. 

“It’ll be good for him,” Itachi chuckled. “And for you.”

“Yes, I think it will,” she said, completing the ino-shika-cho set on her turn.

Just then, the front door opened. 

“I’m home,” Sasuke called, before they heard his footsteps start to ascend the stairs.

“Sasuke.” 

Sasuke poked his head over the railing, his long black bangs in his eyes.

“We should leave in 30 minutes,” Itachi said. “It might be cold in the theater, so dress accordingly.”

“Okay,” was all he said, disappearing. 

“How has Father been?” Itachi asked, switching to Japanese. He didn’t need to say _with Sasuke_ because it was already implied. Itachi loved how contextual Japanese was; you could reduce several sentences down to a few words sometimes.

He completed the five brights during his turn, worth 15 points.

“Koi koi,” he called, taking the gamble.

His mother smiled, and examined her hand.

“You know your Father, he deals with it by not dealing with it.”

Sasuke had come out to their parents last year. One gay son was bad enough, but _two_ , in Fugaku’s eyes, was inexcusable, and he made it known. At least ‘not dealing with it’ meant he wasn’t actively bullying his own son anymore. 

“You’ll let me know if it gets bad again?” 

“I won’t let it,” she said strongly. 

Itachi completed another set before his mother had a chance, therefore winning the game. 

“Ah, you’ve always had good intuition,” she said, placing her hand on her son’s and giving it a squeeze.

Sasuke came into the kitchen, dressed and ready to go—black hoodie. black jeans. black shoes.

“He looks just like you when you were a teenager,” Mikoto laughed, the last thing she said in Japanese—a private sentiment for Itachi—before fussing over Sasuke in English.

Itachi laughed.

_Yes, he really does._

~

“I didn’t know you could… shred on a _shamisen,_ ” Sasuke said with a small laugh as they exited the auditorium.

“Pretty cool, right?”

“Yeah,” Sasuke said, shoving his hands in his sweatshirt pocket. “…Thanks, Itachi.”

The words of gratitude sat warm in his chest. 

At one point during the performance, in the middle of a rather slow and melancholic song, he had glanced over at Sasuke to see a tear sliding down his cheek. Itachi wanted to reach out and take his hand but didn’t want to invade his brother’s privacy. There were other, better ways to do that. 

“So, you want to tell me what’s going on between you and Naruto?”

Sasuke pulled his black hood over his head and picked up his pace considerably, leaving Itachi to laugh at his back. 

* * *

Itachi twisted the tie around his hair one more time, fixating it in a low bun at the base of his neck, the shorter layers falling out to frame his face. He finished buttoning his dark, plum colored shirt all the way up to the band collar, and pulled on a gray _haori_ , giving himself one last satisfied look in the mirror. 

A new clothing company had emerged out of Japan a few years ago that combined his country’s samurai past with a modern flair, and Itachi had fallen in love with it. He owned at least one of everything they made except for the _momohiki_ pants—he had every color, wearing the black ones now. 

Kakashi had invited Itachi out with him and Iruka to a new art exhibition at a gallery nearby. It was a last minute invitation but Itachi was used to Kakashi’s spontaneity—he rarely planned anything in advance unless it was a surprise for Iruka or Naruto. 

Itachi had accepted. It was a Saturday night and he had nothing better to do aside from grading his students essays, which he would rather put off until tomorrow. He agreed to them picking him up, even though he could easily walk or take the train. Hanging out with the two of them was surprisingly nice. They weren’t one of those couples who made you feel like a third wheel; for as in love as they were with each other, they still maintained their independence, which Itachi admired. Kisame had been too dependent on him for his liking, never straying far from his side no matter where they were. At first Itachi found it endearing, but then it became suffocating. 

Itachi sighed, switching off the light to the bathroom and walking down the hall towards the door. It had been almost three years since he separated from Kisame. Since then, he’d completed graduate school, became a professor in Political Science (specializing in non-violence), and lived in a spacious apartment downtown, close to campus. Kisame had transferred out of the aquarium and back to California years ago. Itachi hoped he was happy now. 

He hadn’t dated anyone seriously since. It wasn’t for lack of options, it was more lack of motivation. He didn’t dedicate much time to the thought. It just didn’t… interest him, and he wasn’t about to settle for the most attractive thing that came his way, and there had been a few. 

He pulled on his shoes, gave Shisui a loving scratch between the ears—the black cat twining between his legs with a soft mewl—and headed out the door. 

~

They arrived late, thanks to Kakashi. According to Iruka, Kakashi had to be peeled away from their local dog shelter’s website. The two of them were looking to adopt a new puppy since Pakkun had passed. Kakashi had been _inconsolable._ Itachi didn’t really get it—never having been a dog person—not until he had lost Susanoo did he start to understand the type of heart-rendering grief that came with it. 

Since they were late, they missed the artist’s introduction, and walked into a fairly crowded gallery buzzing with chatter and commotion. 

The three of them separated, floating into whatever direction they were naturally pulled. Itachi was drawn to some of the paintings first; mixed media works that were mostly abstract. The one he was currently fixated on had the upper half of a wooden puppet bursting out of the frame. It was… disturbing. A heavy sadness—heartbreak and anger—seeped out of the canvas. Itachi felt crushed by it, taking a step back. 

Whoever the artist was, they were no doubt talented. 

He strolled along until another one caught his eye. This one felt oddly familiar. Nostalgic. Like he’d seen it before even though he knew he hadn’t. Contrary to the last piece, this one made him feel warm—cradled by a wave of affection. 

Itachi leaned in closer to read the title, squinting his eyes at the tiny type on the placard— _remembering nights with you._ Even with his glasses it was a struggle; his eyesight was steadily deteriorating. 

He felt strangely called out by the ‘you’, as if it literally meant _him._ He knew it was absurd, but his body heated up in response anyway.

He straightened up, smoothing his hands over his _haori._ It had been a while since a work of art had moved him so deeply. He turned towards the center of the gallery to observe the sculptures, giving himself a break from the paintings lining the walls. 

Itachi walked into the next room, which opened up to what was obviously the main attraction: a gigantic sculpture of a dragon curled up in the center of the gallery. It was so life-like, it was as if you could see it breathing. He saw Kakashi’s silver hair near the wings, dwarfed by the creature’s size. 

And then Itachi heard it—musical and light, a tad bit forced. Deidara had many laughs; this was the one he used when he was working someone over. Sure enough, Itachi turned towards the sound to see Deidara batting his lashes at some suit, a hand gently placed on the other man’s arm. 

Itachi doubted the extra effort was necessary—Deidara looked stunning; a vision in all black. He was wearing a black, skin tight sheer shirt beneath a black blazer with velvet lapels. The shirt was tucked into black leather pants that tapered to his heeled black boots. It looked like an edgy, sexy version of a tuxedo, something only Deidara could pull off with such class. 

He’d grown his bangs out, his long blond hair pulled back into a sleek high ponytail. His eyes were lined with black too; the lids smoky with dark shadow, gold glitter dusted near the corners. 

He was by far the most beautiful thing in the room, outshining his own art. 

“You should go save him,” Iruka teased, appearing at Itachi’s side. 

Itachi let out a low sound, not quite a laugh.

“Deidara is the last person who needs saving.”

Right as he said it, Deidara’s eyes flicked in their direction. Itachi felt a strange sense of satisfaction when his eyes widened in surprise, a brilliant smile breaking out across his face. 

His heels clicked on the floor as he effortlessly strode his way over.

“Hi gorgeous,” Deidara said, kissing Iruka on both cheeks. “You look fantastic, as always. Where’s your beau? Or do I get you all to myself tonight?”

“Admiring the dragon. This is incredible, Deidara.” 

“Oh, thank you,” he said with false modesty, flicking his ponytail off his shoulder before finally turning his attention to Itachi. “I never expected to see you here.” 

“Surprise,” Itachi said with no infliction to his voice. 

“Excuse me, I’m going to find Kakashi. I’m sure he’s already polished off too many glasses of free wine…”

They both stayed silent as Iruka departed.

“How’d they convince you to come along?”

“They didn’t. I wasn’t aware the show was yours.”

“Would you have come if you knew?”

“I don’t know,” Itachi said honestly. 

“Fair,” Deidara said. “But since you’re here, what do you think?” 

For a brief second, self-consciousness flashed across his blue eyes. Did Deidara really still care what Itachi thought of his work?

“It’s great,” Itachi said genuinely. 

Deidara huffed.

“But what do you _think?”_ he emphasized. 

Itachi inwardly smiled. He did still care.

“The paintings are… poignant for being so abstract, sometimes overwhelming. The details on the sculptures are expertly done; I don’t know how you’ve managed to convey movement in something so still and solid, but I enjoy the juxtaposition. The statues you’ve chosen to group together seem to have no relation to one another, and that contrast is stimulating enough.”

 _“Seem_ to have no relation?” Deidara asked, twirling the tail of his hair around his finger.

“It’s a play on imagery and the contextualization of words. The statues are intimately related, in fact.”

Deidara beamed.

“I think you’re the only one whose figured it out. Most of these people are so goddamn _boring.”_

“That hasn’t stopped you from flirting,” Itachi said before he could stop himself. 

“Oh please, that’s just work. He wanted to buy one of the statues, which I don’t allow, because you know, I destroy them after they’re shown, but he did buy one of the paintings for a hefty sum.” Deidara said with a glint in his eyes. “You jealous? I’d be happy to shower my attention on you for the rest of the half hour before closing… and well after that, if you let me.” 

A woman came over and placed a hand to Deidara’s elbow.

“Deidara, we need you for some final sales.”

“I’ll be there in second,” he said, before turning to Itachi. “Come out with me after this.”

“Deidara.”

Itachi couldn’t tell if he was saying it in warning or adoration.

“Just for a drink and a friendly chat,” Deidara said with a smile that was way more than friendly. “Come on, I know you want to.” 

Itachi knew he shouldn’t, but he found himself saying yes.

“We go where I want.”

“Fine by me. Sit tight while I go make thousands,” Deidara winked. 

  
~

Itachi took Deidara to his favorite place just outside of Chinatown. It was an old, tiny Japanese restaurant that had been owned by the same family for generations. If you didn’t know it was there, you’d walk right past it. Itachi liked how hidden it was, and it made the best _kare raisu_ he’d tried aside from his mother’s.

Itachi pushed the door open, the small gold bell chiming as they walked in.

When he’d informed Kakashi and Iruka about his plans for the rest of the evening, Kakashi had the gall to high-five Iruka _right_ in front of his face, revealing that this was obviously their plan all along. 

“Why are we the only ones under 70 in here?” Deidara asked, sliding into the booth side at the small table. Itachi had chosen the chair.

“Do you have to speak so loudly?” Itachi chastised.

“I’m just _saying_. If this is where you usually hang out, no wonder you’re still single, honey.”

“It has nothing to do with where I frequent,” Itachi said, readjusting his clothing. “No one’s held my attention.”

“The fact that you’re here with me says otherwise.”

“Your confidence has always been obnoxious.”

“You love it,” Deidara said, as their waitress approached with a kettle of tea and two cups.

“Itachi-san,” she greeted with a small bow.

Itachi spoke with her in Japanese, breaking for a moment.

“Are you still vegan?” he asked Deidara.

“Yep.”

“Sake or shochu?”

“Ooo, shochu,” Deidara said playfully. 

Itachi finished ordering, and then the waitress departed.

“I ordered steamed gyoza with a tofu filling, and an assortment of vegetable tempura.” 

“Sounds divine,” Deidara said, blowing on his tea before taking a sip. “You’re as gorgeous as ever, by the way. You’ve aged _spectacularly.”_

“Hm,” Itachi hummed, taking a sip of his tea too.

“I love what you’re wearing,” Deidara said with a wag of his finger. “You should dress like that more often—it’s like you’ve finally come into yourself. It’s very _you.”_

Itachi looked down at himself for a second. He had been dressing like this more often, and received a lot of compliments for it. Most people thought he was trying to make a statement or something but really, it was just what he was most comfortable in, and finally stopped giving a fuck about fitting in with western fashion. 

“Aren’t you going to compliment _me?”_ Deidara purred, one corner of his mouth curling into a smirk.

“You already know how good you look.” 

“Mmm, but I’d rather you tell me, kitten.”

Itachi wished that old endearment didn’t roll right down his spine.

He took another sip of his tea, sparing a glance at Deidara over his cup. 

“What happened to Sasori?”

Deidara leaned back into the cushioned booth with a resigned sigh. The contrast was almost comical—his chic outfit against the worn-out, faded red vinyl. Itachi loved it.

“I see your dislike for small talk hasn’t changed,” Deidara teased. 

“He had a superiority complex. Didn’t respect my work. Every time I got attention for it, he made me feel like it wasn’t warranted. And every time he was successful, I was supposed to be wildly impressed. I mistook his prentitousness for confidence and thought it was sexy. But really, he was just a fucking snob. We always had these heated arguments about what art actually _was,_ and never agreed. Usually it’d end with amazing sex, but there’s only so long you can survive on that. I never thought I’d here myself say that, but guess it means I’ve matured, yeah?” 

“That has yet to be determined,” Itachi said.

Deidara rolled his eyes.

“Anyway. It wasn’t sustainable. I want to be with someone who supports my work, not someone who degrades it so they can lift themselves up.”

“Mm.” Itachi acknowledged. 

“And Kisame? What happened there?”

“He wanted children. I didn’t.” 

“Ew god, who would?” Deidara said, scrunching up his nose in disgust. 

Itachi fought the smile pulling at his mouth.

“So…that’s it?” Deidara asked when he didn’t say anything further. “That’s all you’re going to give me?”

“It’s a big thing to disagree on, Deidara.” 

“Yeah but…” 

“He wanted to move back to California. I refused to be far from Sasuke.”

Itachi wasn’t about to rattle off the same list he gave to Kakashi years ago, mostly because everything Kisame lacked, Deidara _had_ , and the blonde would be quick to point that out and wave it in his face.

“And what if Sasuke moves?” Deidara asked. “You ever think about that?”

“That’s his choice, but I’m not going to be the one who puts distance between us. The prospect is unlikely. His relationship with Naruto is serious, and Naruto would never be far from his Fathers.” 

“Heh,” Deidara laughed, “you’re probably right. Iruka would up and follow him if that ever happened anyway, and Kakashi’s too much of a pushover when it comes to his husband. But who can blame him with a husband like that?”

“Still pining after a married man?” Itachi teased. “ _Tch._ Pathetic.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, whose wedding was called off because they settled for convenience and convention? Wasn’t mine.” 

That stung Itachi more than it should. More truth there than he was willing to admit.

Their waitress dropped off their food, and Itachi handled his discomfort by picking up his chopsticks and shoving a piece of kabocha tempura into his mouth.

“It broke my heart when we stopped seeing each other,” Deidara said, unfolding a cloth napkin to lay it on his lap. “You know that, yeah?”

“It didn’t seem like it,” Itachi said cooly. “You moved on quickly.”

“You’re one to talk!” Deidara scoffed. “Some days I didn’t know if you even _liked_ me. You were so damn stoic all the time. The rare times I saw you feel something was when I made you come and—,”

“Deidara,” Itachi warned. “Not here.”

Deidara huffed.

“Just because I was seeing someone else didn’t mean _I moved on.”_ He picked up a gyoza and dipped it in sauce. “It was the opposite, really. Having him fuck my brains out helped me cope,” he said, before putting the gyoza in his mouth.

“Do you mind watching your language?”

“See? This is exactly what I mean Itachi,” Deidara said, pointing his chopsticks at him. “I shouldn’t have to censor myself if you actually liked who I was. And when you do get upset with me it’s not even a scold; you say it with such an impassive tone. What’s it going to take to make you feel something again, huh?”

Itachi wanted to stand up—grab Deidara by the lapels of his blazer—and kiss him, but he resisted the urge. He never allowed himself to act on impulse. 

Instead, he sighed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, speaking softly and quickly.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t like you. I don’t waste my time nor anybody else’s. I was raised in a strict environment and regrettably, the influence of my Father slips out sometimes. It’s something I’m working on. I apologize if I can be a little… austere,” Itachi swallowed. 

Deidara blinked away his surprise, licking his lips before speaking.

“A little?” he laughed. “You are _such_ a tight-ass. In more ways than one, hm,” he said in a lowered voice, grazing his heeled boot along the back of Itachi’s calf.

Itachi blushed, swallowing thickly. 

“Ah, there he is,” Deidara purred. “I love making you blush.”

Deidara crunched on a crispy green bean.

“Stay with me tonight.”

Itachi flicked his eyes to Deidara quickly, narrowing them in a hard stare.

“I’m not looking for a hook-up.”

“We don’t have to. We can even sleep separately if you’re feeling _extra_ prude, but I’d rather we didn’t.”

“You leave for New York in the morning,” Itachi deadpanned.

“I can delay,” Deidara shrugged.

“I won’t do casual with you again, Deidara. It didn’t work the first time, it’s not going to work now.” 

“Then let’s not. Let’s date. For real.”

“Monogamously?” Itachi asked with a raise of his brow.

“You wouldn’t have it any other way would you?”

“No. But I’m not going to ask you to change who are you either. I didn’t then, I’m not now.” 

“It’s not a big part of my identity anymore. I liked it when I was younger, but Sasori and I were monogamous. Well, he cheated on me with his much older mentor.”

Itachi’s eyes flashed with anger— _that’s_ what he had felt in the painting. 

“Thanks kitten,” Deidara smiled fondly, “but I’m over it. Anyway, this is about you and me.” 

“I’m not moving to New York,” Itachi said flatly. 

“I wouldn’t mind coming to Chicago. I’m famous now, sweetheart. I can go whatever I want. I’d find work in a heartbeat. It’d be easy to find a residency or some university willing to give me studio space to teach. Maybe even yours, hm? Could you imagine?” Deidara flirted. “To be honest, it’s something I’ve already thought about. All the people I love are here: Iruka, Rin… _you.”_

Itachi eyed him, a warning to be serious.

“Tell me you haven’t thought about me all these years we’ve been a part and I’ll let it go.”

Itachi remained silent. Any statement to the contrary would be a lie. 

Deidara shifted, leaning farther over the table.

“When I saw you at Iruka’s 30th birthday, it took everything in me to remain my perky, fun self, when truthfully I was falling apart inside. I wasn’t expecting to be slammed with unresolved feelings for you. And I know you felt the same way. I _know_ it. But you were with some bland, basic man, who couldn’t hold a _candle_ to you, so what was I suppose to do?” 

“Kisame is a good person.”

“I’m sure he is, and I’m sure thats why you loved him. But did he stimulate your _mind?_ You have the mind of a genius Itachi, and the heart of an artist. Remember all the nights we stayed up listening to Ryuichi Sakamoto? While you worked on your research and I sculpted? I still listen to Sakamoto when I work sometimes.”

Itachi’s heart ached knowing Deidara remembered his favorite composer. Not only remembered, but liked so much he still listened to it.

“Remember the entire days we’d spend at the Museum when it rained? How we critiqued absolutely _everything._ I used to think the way I saw and experienced the world was absolute—I was a self-righteous prick when it came to art—but you had a way of getting into my mind, flipping my reality, making me _see_ things. It was infuriating, I hated you for it, but then it became… liberating and inspiring.”

Deidara paused to take a sip of his shochu, and Itachi felt his whole world tilt, his eyes fixated on Deidara's mouth.

“My best work was directly influenced by you, you know. If you asked me that a few years ago, I would have dropped _dead_ before I admitted it, but it’s true. You’re—,” Deidara bit his lip. “You’re my muse.” 

He placed his hand on the table, palm up. 

“Give me your hand.”

Itachi stared at it before complying. 

“You feel that?”

“No,” Itachi said rudely. 

Deidara moved two of his fingers to Itachi’s pulse point and pressed.

“Liar. Your heart is beating as fast as mine.”

Deidara’s fingers moved beneath his wide sleeve to brush the inside of his arm lightly—goosebumps broke out across his skin immediately. 

“I’ve read every article you’ve published, watched every interview or documentary you were featured in. Listened to every podcast,” Deidara confessed, circling his fingertip lightly along Itachi’s wrist. “I’m… a little obsessed with you, darling.” 

“That’s not something you should admit.”

“Please. What do I have to be ashamed of? You’re brilliant, Itachi. And I find that ridiculously attractive. I’m having a hard time just sitting here, staring at you, when I want to kiss you so badly it’s making me feel feral.” 

Itachi stared into his blue, blue eyes, surrounded by charcoal and gold glitter. His stomach twisted with nerves and arousal, and _god_ it felt like a whole lifetime had passed since he’d felt so enthralled by someone. The last time someone made him feel this way was, well… _Deidara._

Had it always been Deidara? This whole time? The thought was entirely overwhelming, but for once in his meticulously crafted life, Itachi gave himself over to impulse. 

He stood up, swiftly walked over to the counter to settle their check, and just as quickly walked back to their table, pulling Deidara out of the booth by the arm.

“Let’s go.”

“Oh my _god._ This is so hot, you have no idea.”

Once they were outside, Deidara pulled him to a halt, pushing Itachi up against the glass of the restaurant window — thankfully shielded by blinds — kissing him thoroughly.

“I’m already hard for you,” Deidara panted near his ear. “Can you feel it?” he asked, rolling his hips into Itachi. “This is what you do to me. What you’ve always done to me. You drive me _mad,_ Itachi.”

Itachi groaned and pushed him off, guiding him swiftly down the street by the hand.

“Can’t you walk any faster?” Itachi hissed over his shoulder.

“These are four inch heels, baby. If I walk any faster I’ll break my ankle. Where are we going anyway?”

“My apartment. We’re not fucking in some hotel bed; I’m taking you home.”

Deidara let go of his hand and stopped. Itachi turned around to find him slipping off his heels in the middle of the crowded sidewalk, a passerby cursing as he knocked into him. Deidara put the shoes into his purse before pulling out a pair of black hightop converse.

“I knew these would come in handy.” 

After he’d shoved his feet in them, he retook Itachi’s hand, interlacing their fingers together.

“Guess what, kitten…” Deidara purred into his ear, flicking his tongue at the shell of it. “…I’m not wearing anything beneath these leather pants.”

Itachi cursed and broke into a run.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm super curious to know what you think! (⌒_⌒;)
> 
> I... really don't know how to play koi koi so please accept my hand waving lmao
> 
> for my nata readers--sorry if the breakup of itach and kisame threw you for a loop! honestly, i... shipped them in nata because i had JUST started watching nartuo and it seemed convenient, but I quickly grew out of the ship for many reasons. anyway! hope you still liked it regardless! because... DEIDARA!!!!!!
> 
> there's a line in the conversation between itachi and deidara towards the end that was provided by and 100% influenced by a conversation with callaina <3\. it's one of my favorite lines in the fic, and credit is due to her! ilu. 
> 
> thanks for reading!!
> 
> I posted what I imagined itachi and deidara's outfits were in the final scene [here on my tumbr](https://ladyxxdaydream.tumblr.com/post/632089201066770433/itachi-deidaras-outfits-in-the-final-scene-of)!!


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